


Up the Duff

by merfemme



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light Bondage, Pregnancy, rainfall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merfemme/pseuds/merfemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kate gets pregnant while Irene is being held in Karachi, Irene has just the proper punishment in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up the Duff

The air was scented heavily with rain that night, a smell that crept into every corner of the enormous flat until Kate couldn’t stand to be confined. She crept through the front door in her dressing gown, hardly caring that it wouldn’t fit round her belly, and sat on the front steps of Irene Adler’s sophisticated home. Water was splashing everywhere. It glistened below the streetlamps, pooled next to curbs, and rushed past her feet as Kate stuck them into a small river trickling below the steps. It cooled her feet, feeling like soft and wet hands curling about her toes and stroking her ankles.

Kate, the professionally capable maid of Irene Adler, was lonelier than she had reckoned on being. It was to have been a simple session, but Irene had been absent for the entire meeting; Kate was never jealous, for she knew her place, but she felt entirely too sensitive to be left alone. Her back ached and her head was pounding, and she only longed for her mistress to return with a clever smile and a cunning hand.

Had she not gotten herself pregnant, though, she might have been glamorously dressed and laughing in a corner with elegant men and women as Irene manipulated the lot of them. However, to have one’s maid in public during her seventh month was unseemly for their class; as Irene had tried to explain, it was simply odd to have her as the public front for a dominatrix when even walking was exhausting. So, she lurked at home and resigned herself to being an unusual counterpart to a “kept woman.”

Tonight, though, she wouldn’t have considered regretting anything. Yes, her back hurt so thoroughly that she could feel the dull, enervating pain down through her calves; true, the baby was kicking a bit much for her liking as she attempted to make herself comfortable. But, she could sit in the doorway of her only home and dip her feet in furious rainwater. She let the water soothe her sore feet, and looked up in an attempt to make out stars. Leaning her head on one arm, she cradled the swell of her stomach with the other and breathed deeply. Kate was so tranquil, so content, that she didn’t notice Irene until the dominatrix kicked her heel at Kate’s toes.

“Irene...” she sighed, raising her head and smiling, fatigued. “It’s good to see you back.” 

Irene touched a graceful hand to Kate’s lank and sweaty ginger braid, then let herself be motioned inside. Kate locked the door behind them and put a kettle of water on to boil. She pressed a hand to her back while she waited to make their tea; Irene approached from behind and set her hands on Kate’s enormous stomach, rubbing gently and rocking Kate from side to side.

“Were you lonely without me?” Irene asked, resting her head against Kate’s arm; the maid was too tall for Irene to see over her shoulders. “Was she kicking too much tonight?”

“Like a chorus girl,” Kate muttered, leaning into the comfort of Irene’s body and smiling. “I feel better now that you’re home.” The kettle whistled, obnoxious and relieving at once, and Kate poured tea for them. They drank it--Darjeeling, Irene’s favourite--standing over the central counter of the kitchen, Irene’s eyes roaming over her maid while Kate herself drank slowly with her eyes closed. 

“You know, Kate, you wouldn’t be so sore if you hadn’t slept with that man. Who was it again?”

Kate scowled. “German ambassador, as you well know, Irene.” The baby kicked hard, and her breath hitched; Irene’s face crumpled in concern, and she drained her tea so as to comfort Kate. Standing on her tiptoes for a kiss, Irene smoothed the silk dressing gown over Kate’s front as their lips met sweetly. Abruptly, her maid groaned and sucked greedily on her lips, pulling Irene into her warmth and slipping a hand beneath her jaw. Her tongue forced its way into Irene’s mouth, and was hastily bitten.

Kate withdrew, hurt but with breath deepening and intensifying.

Irene set her hands on her hips and smirked. “Now, Kate, if you want to play, you need only ask.” And The Woman took her hand, leading her upstairs with delighted anticipation.

Gently coaxing Kate onto the edge of her bed, Irene began to undress her, to untie her sash and slip the dressing gown from her shoulders; she ran her fingers over Kate’s body as she did so, feeling changes and urges that could be used to their advantage. The maid leaned into her mistress’ breasts, allowing herself to be held momentarily, and caressed as Irene began securing her wrists with silk restraints.

Irene whispered in her ear, a hand curling around her coppery hair, “This is just for you, darling.” She patted Kate’s belly with a smile, letting her fingers linger on its savage heat. “All of this is for you. Tell me if you hurt too much, won’t you?” Kate nodded, twisting with restless need.

Irene Adler stood to admire her work, wanting to revel in even the overture to this grand play. She sauntered around her dressing table, where she left her clothing in a sensually-dropped pile, unclipping suspenders and rolling off stockings as she went. She coyly pulled the pins from her hair, curls flowing down her back with a roll of her slender neck. Entirely nude, a hand teasing at her own thighs, she regarded Kate, delighting in part in the way her sweet little maid was quivering with arousal.

It was odd, truly, to see a woman so close to her pregnant and to have such remarkable changes happening to a creature in her own home. At first, she had been rather irritated (and wounded, although her pride recovered) that Kate had chosen her mistress’ kidnapping by terrorists as a prime opportunity to sleep with another; she had scolded Kate, calling her foolish and disrespectful, a poor excuse for an employee if she would so easily let herself be caught up the duff. Then, though, her righteous temper had subsided. And, she saw Kate be formed anew as if by a miracle: her breasts were heavier now, her nipples larger and darker; her belly was swollen and massive, pressing from within and tightening the flesh around it; there were purple marks striping her body, which in time would fade silver. Irene had never before considered an expecting mother in this way, but she saw her Kate now as even more beautiful, even more precious.

Rain was still pattering against the windows as Irene nudged a hand between Kate’s thighs. She curled herself around the baby to suck at Kate’s nipple, exulting in the way the woman squirmed without being able to touch in return. Irene trailed her nails along Kate’s inner thigh, pinching and scraping--Kate gasped hungrily then--before dancing her hand further into Kate’s wetness. She kissed her maid again, then, slipping a hot and salty finger between their lips. Kate moaned.

Later that night, Irene would smile contentedly, a bit raunchily in fact, as she recalled Kate’s unbelievably loud screams; her dear maid would have come more strongly than ever before, rocking powerfully into Irene’s hand and grunting. Barely a month after that pleasure, Kate would scream yet again, and Irene would notice how remarkable both moments had been, although so very different.


End file.
